That Didn’t Last Long

Less than twenty-four hours of using the app and I am burnt out on it.

I have not been obsessively using it, I just don’t care for it.

It manages to suck me right into my phone, which no way man, not on my day off, I have things to do, books to read, walks to take, women to sit with in my kitchen and be present for.

I have food to cook and things to write.

And I just don’t like it.

Partially because it just seems so patently surface.

“I don’t like it,” I told him today on the phone, “I want it off my phone, but I haven’t figured out how to get rid of it yet.”

I have turned off the notifications and I haven’t used it in a few hours and I am going to get it off my phone.

Online dating seems one thing, this random roulette of photographs and profiles apparently works for someone out there, I know lots of folks are using it, but it turns out, not really news to me, I am a little more old-fashioned.

But not too old-fashioned.

I managed to knock another one off my list of ten.

And I replaced one of the guys on the list with a more viable option, if I suspected I was not going to want to go out with the gentleman from last night because he’s a heavy smoker, he should never have gone onto the list.

It was a cheat so I could cross it off without having to do the actual work.

And it is work, let me tell you, asking someone out without hiding behind the screen of my phone, rather actually using my phone.

Not sending a text.

But actually calling a live human being.

Who’s voicemail, of course, I got.

And I flubbed it so bad.

Oh my god.

It’s funny, it was funny when I was doing it, it was the most artless, graceless, idiotic, could be made into a bad dating comedy movie script, of an ask.

In fact.

Ugh.

I called him an asshole.

I meant, I am the asshole, because I can’t quite cleanly articulate what I am saying.

Shocker.

I haven’t gotten a response.

Oh lordy.

But you know, I tried.

And he’s actually a friend, someone I have known for years and off again, on again, wondered about whether we might have some chemistry–it seems we do, but sometimes that’s hard to tell.

My picker appears broken, so I could be wrong.

He also has a sense of humor, so I’m sure he will actually find it funny that I called him an asshole. I also said I was practicing and in the spirit of taking suggestions I was asking him out to coffee, not as friends, but to see if there was a click there.

Then I laughed maniacally.

Dating.

So much fun.

I have decided that I am going to let the OkStupid profile stand, although I am not a huge fan of it, I prefer it leaps and bounds over Tinder.

And I am going to continue to knock of the names on the list.

One by one.

Each day.

That is my goal anyway, one name a day.

One phone call or one message.

Of the ten on the list the guy I called today is the only one who I actually have a phone number for.

The other guys I’m going to have to message on Facebook or ask out in person.

One of them I will see tomorrow and I have been trying for the last couple of weeks to get up the gumption, but I believe I was still clearing out all the stuff from my previous relationship and I was stymied whenever I got close to saying anything.

But I am sick of the fantasy.

I am a dreamer, but I want reality.

I’m going to kill the fantasy with the guy I usually see on Mondays.

I don’t think there’s interest on his part, but I have to get it, him out of my head and out-of-the-way.

I am not obsessively thinking about him, but he’s there and every Monday for a little while now, I have thought, I really should ask him out for a cup of coffee.

He’s not on a Facecrack as far as I can tell.

Two of his close mutual friends are and I have done enough Facecrack stalking to ascertain that he probably does not have an account.

This is a good thing.

That is one thing on my ideals list, someone who can be present for me and I for them and not interfacing via social media.

It’s too one-sided.

I want to be with someone who wants to be with me, not my profile picture.

Anyway.

That’s the plan.

Ask one guy out a day.

Get dates set up.

One a week, just like I was trying to do before I got into the relationship with my ex.

It worked then.

And as I have learned so much about myself and dating and romantic relationships and breakups and being human through that experience, I can only have faith that it has made me a better woman to date.

I have grown toward my ideal.

Beyond grateful for that.

I have so much more clarity around what I want it is refreshing and I know that God will do for me what I cannot do for myself, that God’s plan is so much better than my plan.

I mean really.

It is.

I don’t want to be alone, though I isolate at the drop of hat, so I’m fellowshipping and seeing ladies.

I got a ticket to Basement Jaxx to dance, I’m not going to wait for someone to take me.

Although not a single person I know is now going.

Which is ok.

I can still go and dance and if it gets weird being there on my own.

Well.

I leave.

Novel idea that.

And who knows.

Maybe in the work of doing this, in the changing and growing I will, without even meaning to, stumble into the exact place I am supposed to be.